Comes back to bite you
by Cybertronprincess
Summary: The dead can come back to bite you.
1. Chapter 1

Life on the _Nemesis_ had become notably... different, since Breakdown's passing. Strange occurrences and sounds echoed down the dark hallways, terrifying any innocent Eradicon within hearing distance. And then Knock Out would walk down the hall.

The petite red medic hadn't been the same since the news had been broken to him, obviously. He floated around the _Nemesis_, tending to his duties as normal, but Knock Out simply wasn't himself. He was normally chatty and social, to the point that he'd been referred to as the Decepticon equivalent of "bubbly" or "bouncy", and it had been _Starscream_ who'd come up with that.

But now, as Megatron turned to regard his lone medic, the little mech simply shuffled passed, his head and optics turned down. He still showed respect and submission, as any soldier should, but he lacked the playful vigour he'd always had before.

And it made Dreadwing ache with guilt.

He often visited the med-bay, simply to give the medic company. Knock Out had firmly said that he didn't blame the new First lieutenant for his partner's death, but Dreadwing still felt responsible.

But what really intrigued Megatron were the strange things circulating around the medic, which the red mech seemed otherwise unaware of. The tyrant once approached Knock Out about it, but his physician merely blinked and shrugged.

"I'm sorry my lord; I don't quite follow..." And then the lights had gone out. But again, the medic didn't seem to notice! It was as if he was in his own little bubble; like the only thing wrong with the world to him was his own mournfulness over Breakdown's demise. And it frustrated Megatron to no end.

Soundwave's scanners were unable to detect anything out of the ordinary, (mostly because every time he tried, the entire computer system shut down under mysterious circumstance) but Megatron could definitely _feel_ something different. Specifically, when he passed the medic in the hallways, he always found himself shoved to the ground, as if a giant and pushed passed him to keep up with Knock Out.

"_What_ is going on around here?" he bellowed into the hollows of the control room. Himself and Soundwave were the only bots present, as the systems had shut down again. Soundwave basically ignored his master in favour of getting the ship's security and computer back online, but pretended to lend a sympathetic audio to the gladiator.

"It's as if thin air is out to get us!" Megatron growled, clenching his fists. Soundwave glanced over his shoulder. "Soundwave, you know I do not believe in such rubbish!" Soundwave made the faintest of shrugs. Megatron bared his teeth and turned away.

The suggestion of ghosts and curses was simply ludicrous! True, he believed in the Well of All Sparks, and even Unicron's domain, otherwise known as the Pitt; but he was of the opinion that once a Cybertronian died, their Sparks _stayed_ in either of the realms.

The lights went out again and the air went frosty. Then the doors opened and Knock Out shuffled in.

"My lord, I have the reports you wish for." He murmured half-sparkedly, holding up a datapad. Megatron and Soundwave stared at him, then glanced to each other.

"Thank you... Knock Out..." Megatron said slowly, taking the pad from his medic. Knock Out bowed shakily, the removed himself from the room silently.

The lights came back on and the air was warm again.

"... Of course... there's always room for error..." Megatron gulped, glaring at the light bulbs accusingly.

.X.

Apparently, having a 'cursed' mech, as the Eradicons called him now, on the battle field was within Megatron's favour. In the heat of battle, something would always seem to go wrong for the Autobots when the got too close to Knock Out, especially for Bulkhead.

Bumblebee would suddenly trip or find himself choking on the remnants of his voice box. Arcee would be flung to the other side of the field as if she'd been punched. Optimus at one point found his blaster blocking up, and in his desperation to see what was wrong, it went off in his face as he stupidly looked down the barrel.

But for poor Bulkhead...

Cliffs fell on his head, unexplained explosions went off beneath his feet, dents and gashes appeared painfully all over his body, and he even found himself fall to his knees and gagging, as if he was being strangled.

All whenever they tried to attack Knock Out.

Megatron scratched his helm questioningly, looking rather comical in Soundwave's opinion. He stared bluntly at a hacking Bulkhead as a panicky Arcee and flustered Prime tried to pry the invisible hands away from their comrade's throat.

The medic scurried behind Dreadwing, as were the lieutenant's orders, and Bulkhead was suddenly released.

Soundwave took notes of this; of how Knock Out's invisible guardian seemed comforted when the medic was near to Dreadwing.

.X.

The moment the black and yellow femme appeared over the cliff edge, Megatron knew that no power in the universe would stop Knock Out when he let out that snarl.

Before even Arcee could react; the medic lunged after Airachnid at breakneck speed, in robot mode surprisingly. The blue and pink femme paused for a minute, then followed suit, though she had to transform to catch up with Knock Out.

Dreadwing quickly transformed and flew after the medic, yelling for him to halt. But he was ultimately ignored as Knock Out tackled Airachnid to the ground.

His paint scratched and scuffed, but to the flyer's amazement; Knock Out didn't seem to care. He snapped out his buzz-saw, promptly hacking off all of the femme's spindly spare legs. She cried out in pain, clawing and scratching at his chest and arms.

Dreadwing transformed and landed a distance away, just watching silently.

Arcee drove up and transformed as well, producing her weapons to fight Knock Out off of her prey. In an incredible display of endurance and strength, Knock Out took each shot easily to his red back, then twisted slightly and let his underused missile launcher appear on his wrist and fired a flawless shot into Arcee's middle.

Her abdomen was ripped open by the explosion, the acid of her fuel tank spewing and boiling, her circuits flying and dangling from her body as she skidded along the ground. Her scream echoed across the dessert, which Dreadwing doubted the Autobots could've missed.

Satisfied his competition was out of the way, Knock Out turned back to glower at the struggling Airachnid beneath him.

"Get off of me you slut!" She snarled, cruelly scoring at him again. Knock Out simply stared at her, though Dreadwing got the feeling he was planning and plotting her death.

"You killed him..." He mutter, producing a laser scalpel from his subspace. "I'm going to cut you apart just like you did to him, your worthless scavenger..."

The scalpel dove expertly into her optic, slicing it out with brutal precision. Her magenta eye fell to the ground with a clatter.

Her pain seemed to grant her the ability to roll over, shoving Knock Out off. She scrambled to her heeled pedes, and began running to the best of her ability, cupping the side of her pretty face the medic had cut. Said medic growled, looking up, then gave chase once again. Dreadwing spared a glance to Arcee, the weird gentlemech programming pinching at him again, but the Autobots were now tending to her.

However, Bulkhead decided to follow Knock Out.

Dreadwing did the same, running after the three mechanisms, passing a startled Optimus in the process. The Prime yelled something along the lines of; "Come back!" But Dreadwing doubted he was talking to himself.

As he kept running, he enhanced his visual intake just enough to spot Airachnid dashing into a cave in the rock face ahead of him. Knock Out followed quickly, as did Bulkhead. As did he.

The cave was dark, though holes in the jagged roofs provided spot light like illumination. Dreadwing scurried through, hearing Knock Out's shouts and Airachnid's cries.

He ran to the edge of a stone arch way, which lead to a large cavern where Airachnid stood, cornered like an animal. Knock Out was hunched up, and Dreadwing couldn't help but think of the scene he'd witnessed while waiting for Wheeljack a month prior; a starving wolf hunting a terrified rabbit.

Bulkhead suddenly appeared behind him, but Dreadwing ignored the Autobot leaning over his shoulder; they were both there for the same reason.

"You're going to suffer..." Knock Out hissed, stalking closer and closer.

"No! Please!" Airachnid sobbed, backing closer to the wall. But then Knock Out froze. She raised a questioning optic ridge at the medic, who was suddenly trembling. She spotted the two larger mechs in the archway she'd come through, both with their jaws wide open, terror instilled in their optics. Dreadwing's servo slowly raised, arm shaking, pointing in her direction.

As Airachnid turned, she found herself face to face with a one eyed mech. He body was limp, hanging by circuits and connectors, golden optic staring blankly into her undamaged one. His head tilted in an ungodly way, then he looked down at the ground she stood on. She did the same, and to her horror, hands, claws and tentacles lashed out and gripped her ankles.

A face Bulkhead recognised heaved himself out of the floor, pulling his way up Airachnid's body. Tailgate grabbed at her arms, tugging at her furiously. Airachnid's screams filled the air as her past victims grabbed at her mercilessly.

Through her struggles, Breakdown reached forward, gripping her cheeks, and snapped her neck.

Airachnid sank into the sand and rocks at her feet, glowing blue energon spattered where she'd stood.

Quiet engulfed the tomb like cavern, until Knock Out's body hit the floor with a loud _**thunk**_.

.X.

The report was... unbelievable, to say the least. Yet Megatron found himself unable to deny Dreadwing's words. He still stood in the docking station, holding the still passed out Knock Out bridal style. His lieutenant even presented Airachnid's optic to him, which Megatron had promptly crushed.

So... Airachnid was finally dead.

He allowed Dreadwing to leave, ordering him to take Knock Out back to med-bay, and stay with him until he came around. Dreadwing bowed slightly, then trudged off. Megatron turned to Soundwave, folding his arms. Soundwave noticed his master seemed to always do that when he was uncomfortable or nervous. Or both.

Dreadwing carefully lay Knock Out's prone body on the medical berth, one delicate arm draped over his scarred middle. He took hold of the medic's free, dangling servo gently.

He tried to ignore the fact he could hear Breakdown's cheerful humming.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a dark shadow that loomed over the corridors of the _Nemesis_. Dreadwing's steps were heavier, slower with his grief and the stabbing feeling of treason. He knew he should not have handed Prime the hammer so easily, he knew the consequences if he were discovered, but took comfort in the knowledge that Optimus Prime would not rat him out no matter how obvious it was who had given him the forge. The blue Seeker Drake internally cradled himself, imagining the warm feeling the motion gave him was Skyquake, like those nights when they were sparklings. Dreadwing was, admittedly, a rather cowardly little nestling. He'd seek out his braver twin's company during electrical storms in the middle of the night, curling against his green chassis and listening to his spark beat.

"Dreadwing," The dark falcon he'd grown to worship and even... love. "I have been searching for you."

Yes, that love had formed over the centuries, despite his inactivity. Megatron shone like a shadowed light in the dark, empty hollow left behind by his twin. But where his voice had once cast an icy cold white light through the darkness, it now did nothing more than flood it with black frost. He treasured Megatron and the love offered to him since his arrival on the war ship; the tender touches, the sweet words and the meaningful stares. Like a delicate sculpture carved out of ice, though now it was quickly melting away in the heat of his rage and hatred.

Because his love for Skyquake burned ever brighter.

"I am at your service, Lord Megatron." He said, tongue stained a vile, lying green as he bowed his head.

"I recognise that Starscream's return to our ranks may be... _difficult _for you," Megatron explained the reason for his addressing. "Given the loss of your twin under his command. But your cooperation is _essential. _We Decepticons will be equipped to rule a restored Cybertron _only_ if we are united." He continued firmly.

Unity and cooperation. It was as much a Decepticon principle as it were an Autobot. '_Til all are one. _Yet Megatron's reign was not of the same structure as Optimus Prime's; the Decepticons were not his family, his friends, or anything more than pawns. Dreadwing would have been glad to remain, if circumstances had not arisen.

"Understood." He whispered in a growling, guttural voice. "And if it pleases you master; I intend to reach out to our comrade, personally."

It did please him; an appreciative smile hinted at his scarred lips and he nodded. Megatron's remaining hand reached forward, trailing finger tips down the Seeker's forearm. But to his astonishment, Dreadwing did not react. The warlord's optics widened, then forcibly narrowed again. Under normal circumstances, the broken twin would have wrenched forward, clinging to the physical contact his brother could no longer provide him. Yet all he saw in those bright pools Dreadwing held as eyes, was malice. Red ice stretching over the immediate exhaustion in his posture and voice, where he could not feed off of Skyquake's energy field. The half of one whole, Megatron retracted his arm. He had a bad feeling, but ultimately decided to let fate take its course.

He turned away, walking down the hall, feeling Dreadwing's ice crawl up his back. He was glaring at him hatefully, for allowing his twin's murderer to remain, for allowing Starscream to _live._ His love for Megatron was now of the same level as it was for Wheeljack.

Begrudging spite. Respectful venom.

Dreadwing turned again, continuing the trek to the medical bay. He'd visited that facility many times, simply to keep the medic company. After the conundrum with Airachnid's death, Dreadwing had been Knock Out's proverbial shoulder to lean on. His wings stood on end as the temperature immediately dropped, hearing that sound.

The humming.

He swallowed quietly, taking a deep breath and mumbling to the air, "Good day, Breakdown."

"I can't _wait_ to take flight and soar above the clouds!" Oh that voice. That _voice._ How Dreadwing _hated_ that voice. How he hated the owner of the slimy, disgusting voice. His fists trembled and the familiar humming stopped, and he spoke.

"_**Starscream**_," Both the slender Seeker and the little medic looked around in shock, optics wide at his imposing entrance. "I regret to inform you that you will not live to spread your wings ever again."

The whirr of his canon, and the heat of its charging barrel pressed against his hip, coupled with the expression of true horror Starscream possessed was humours, but he didn't laugh. But, somewhere else in the ship two rumbling voices did so instead.

Dreadwing screamed as he pulled the trigger, aiming for Starscream's twisted head. Both smaller mechs flung themselves in either direction, Starscream landing in a heap on the floor, while Knock Out pressed himself against the wall of the medical bay.

"Knock Out, help me!" Starscream cried to the medic. The red mech replied with a panicked grunt, running through the doors and down the corridor, saving himself to all appearances. Dreadwing stalked closer, throwing his canon to the ground in favour of his sword. Raising it to eye level, he closed in on the shivering Draka, who pathetically armed himself with a medical drill. "Dreadwing, what has gotten into you?!" He demanded, attempting to sound commanding, yet shaking too hard to appear intimidating. Out of contempt, the Drake hacked the screw shaped head off of the drill. Starscream began backing up slightly across the floor, blathering on. "W-wait! This is about Skyquake, isn't it?!" The sound of the voice speaking his twin's name.

The fuel poured into the pyre in his broken spark.

"I-I thought we had put that _behind_ us!" Starscream whimpered pathetically. Dreadwing forced tears of rage back into his optics, stalking ever closer.

"So had I!" He bellowed, swinging his sword into the air and swiping at him. Starscream cried out in fear, leaning back to dodge the blow.

"Casualties are an unfortunate consequence of war!" Starscream pointed out in his panic. "But I assure you, your twin met his end with great honour!"

"Which you _**disgraced**_ by raising him from the _**dead!**_" Dreadwing shouted.

Frightened panting came out, then Starscream muttered under his breath. "Oh, you know about that...!" He glanced around, hoping for another weapon of self defence. "There must be something I can do!" He cried out in desperation when he found none. "Some form of reparation to alleviate your anguish!"

"_Okay, okay! I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you! Just don't tell creator...!"_

The despairing shout made his hands shake, his optics trembling and his vision blurring. Memories of those moments, those stupid things Skyquake would do in his flashes of childish antics. How Dreadwing would always catch him, and how the green Drake would literally fall to his knees and beg him not to tell. All those times, to the very last moment where he looked down from the ship, offering him a smile and silently waving, before disappearing. For eternity.

The tears streamed down his cheeks as the red ice and the black frost clouded his mind, straining and screaming for his brother as he raised his sword again.

"_**Your spark will suffice!**_"

"_**Dreadwing!**_"

He turned, his master's form slipping out of the shadows of the medical bay doors. So, the little medic valued Starscream over the mech who'd been taking care of him.

"Stand down!" Megatron commanded in angered disbelief.

"This _desecrater _must _pay_ for his actions!" Dreadwing howled, pointing accusingly at Starscream sprawled upon the floor. Oh how he wanted to scream and curse at his master, damning him for allowing the silver Seeker to walk upon these very floors. But his breath and his glossa caught against his lips, causing him to gasp and reel back.

And all Skyquake did was smile and wave from behind the dark lord.

"_You call this **loyalty** master?!_" Starscream shrieked, gesturing to Dreadwing.

"_Ow... his voice is as painful as I remember it!"_

"I said _**stand down!**_ That is an order!"

Dreadwing's head began to spin, his wings going limp at his back and his sword falling from his hand.

"_He seems angry... do as he says Blue; remember what happened to Ramjet when he torqued him this badly? Ugh, I'm **still** picking pieces out of my joints, and I can walk through walls!"_

Dreadwing's lower lip trembled, and his helm dropped in submission. Megatron straightened, optics scowling in disapproving anger.

"Get. Out."

Dreadwing hesitated for a moment, lost as to what to do with himself, before Skyquake clicked his tongue and rolled his optics.

"_Come on, this way," _He groaned condescendingly. _"Primus, how did you** ever** survive without me?"_

Dreadwing paused a moment longer, then scurried after his brother, passed their master who watched him leave. Though the blue Seeker didn't spare him a second glance. Starscream gasped in unyielding relief, moving to his knees.

"I'm okay? I'm okay!" He laughed. "Lord Megatron, you have my _eternal_ thanks!"

Megatron glowered at the Seeker, baring his fangs. "Place me in a situation where Dreadwing's life hangs in the balance again, and you shall suffer for it. I swear." He then turned, and walked away.

Dreadwing half ran after Skyquake, who whistled jauntily as he swaggered down the halls of the _Nemesis_, passed Vehicons, who then ran passed their Second in Command yelling, "Not another one!"

"_Let us see... this is your quarters, isn't it?"_ The green Seeker leaned over, his head melting straight through the door, the hurriedly jumped away with a comical yelp. _"Nope! Unless you let Vehicons interface on you bunk of course."_

"Sky..." His brother turned to look at him.

"_Yes, Blue?"_

"Wh-what...?"

"_Wh-what, what?"_ He teased, walking closer. Again, the temperature around him dropped, but he did not hear the Stunticon's humming.

"You... you're supposed to be dead!"

"_Rub it in why don't you."_

"What... does this mean?"

"_You've always been the smart one; what do you think it means?"_ Dreadwing's brow furrowed, considering his situation, his experiences. How despite the fact he could always hear Breakdown's musical entertainment, Knock Out, Megatron and Soundwave were never able to.

"I think... I am dreaming." He decided. Skyquake's hand hit his own forehead in exasperation, snorting in annoyance at his brother's stubbornness.

"_Noooo, that's not quite the route I was going for,"_ He grumbled. He then reached forward, patting Dreadwing's spark chamber. Then, he reached for the wall, his arm slipping straight through. _"Come now, you watched enough scary movies with me when we were young to know where this is going..."_

"... Sky, I don't believe in that kind of thing."

"_Yet here I am. And you're talking to me."_ His twin shrugged.

Dreadwing stared at his twin for the longest time, imagining he was staring into a mirror, showing him who he truly wanted to be; his strong, open minded, big brother.

"Oh, Sky..." He whimpered, reaching forward and cupping his twin's translucent face. "Forgive me for not being there for you."

"_What, so you could die too?"_ The green Drake snorted. _"Don't think so."_

"Did... did it hurt? I mean... what did it feel like?" Skyquake looked up at the ceiling for a moment in thought, then grinned.

"_Hurt like slag, but it was over pretty quick,"_ He replied. _"Now I don't feel... anything! No temperature, no pain... don't even feel hungry!"_

"That makes a change." Dreadwing smiled slightly as his twin laughed, but frowned again eventually. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"_Don't be, it's not your fault. Besides, it wasn't that bad."_

"How do you mean?"

"_I mean I died with Optimus' cute yellow scout on top of me, so I died happy!"_

* * *

***sniffsniff* Megatron you dick...**_  
_

**Hey guys, remember this fic? Well, I got this idea when brooding over Dreadwing's death to music. I have this terrible habit of picking Red-Shirts as my favourite characters (Breakdown :).**

**Yes Dreadwing, I just saved your life _and_ gave you the sixth sense. You're welcome. _Hail to the Princess baby!_**


	3. Chapter 3

As happy as Dreadwing was to have his brother back – phantasmal or not – the revelation that he had, what humans call, the sixth sense was a little disturbing. Skyquake frequently praised him for it, saying it was a good thing. He believed and agreed with him; it gave him his brother back, after all. Still, it seemed the Eradicons on the ship all had a slight sixth sense; they couldn't see Skyquake like Dreadwing could, but they could definitely sense he was around. And that in itself scared them. But Dreadwing understood that, the knowledge that someone was there when they weren't supposed to be, but not actually seeing them was quite a terrifying concept. So he tried to be careful around the troops.

It didn't help that Skyquake _liked _scaring them.

"_Ooga-booga!"_

His brother's laughter as the Eradicons shrieked and ran in terror from what they perceived as a haunted dust cover, gave Dreadwing this horrible, painful headache.

"Sky!" He shouted.

"_What? Just having a bit of fun... being dead is kind of boring, you know..."_

On the other hand, it turned out that the Insecticons' animalistic instincts meant they had a better sense than the Eradicons. Meaning, if ever they were feeling particularly vicious and decided to pick a fight with his living twin, Skyquake would appear.

"_Boo...!"_ And off they went with their tailpipes between their legs, making that peculiar squealing sound that was usually used as a battle cry, leaving Dreadwing to fail at his attempts not to laugh.

And then there was the other resident... "ghost".

"Breakdown?" The Stunticon looked up at him, smiled, and gave the blue Drake a wave.

"_Hey boss mech, how are you?"_ He asked cheerfully. Skyquake grinned up at his brother, from where he sat on Dreadwing's berth with Breakdown. _"I've been meaning to thank you; for taking care of the doc bot, I mean."_

"Yes, he seems all-too thankful for my time and effort as well," Dreadwing snarled bitterly, glaring at the wall to his left. Breakdown tilted his head, smiling sympathetically.

"_Don't take it personally; he was panicking. That, and Starscream's his friend. Wouldn't you try to help your friend if someone was trying to kill him?"_ Breakdown asked. Skyquake nodded and folded his arms over his cockpit.

"_Don't try to lie! You tried to help Ramjet when Megatron snapped at him."_

"And look how well _that_ worked out." Dreadwing muttered. He then walked towards the berth. "Do you two mind? I want to get some recharge." He sighed, swiping at them lazily until they vanished like wisps of smoke, reforming beside the bunk as he lay down with his back to them. They leaned over him, bent at the hip, looking puzzled. Skyquake then nudged Breakdown, as a signal for them to leave.

"_C'mon,"_ He grinned. _"Let's go see if we can make Starscream cry like a femme again!"_ Dreadwing suddenly sat bolt upright, glaring where his brother and the Stunticon had previously been. He found himself alone in the silent, dim room, so he simply sat still, closed his optics and listened carefully.

And as promised, the shrill shrieks of what should have been a femmebot, but was probably a Seeker, came darting down the hall outside, until the two spirits stepped through the solid metal door, laughing up a storm. Dreadwing smiled smugly, then lay back down.

As for Knock Out, the medic came knocking at his door the very next morning.

"Um...," He began, arms folded behind his back, shuffling his pede over the floor nervously. Skyquake and Breakdown peered over Dreadwing's shoulders, though the blue Drake doubted Knock Out could see them. Breakdown purred in delight at seeing his partner, and Skyquake wolf whistled at the pretty sight.

"_He's gorgeous! I'm jealous, Breakdown!"_

"_You should be."_ Was the smug reply. Dreadwing schooled his expression into emotionless, trying not to let slip to the medic that a conversation about him was going on in his room.

"I... I wanted to apologise... for getting you into trouble like that," Knock Out finally said, looking up at the Drake though his chin was tucked in. "See, Starscream's my friend and... I know he's a pain in the afterburners, and I know what he did was completely wrong, but... he's still my friend, and he brought Breakdown back to me after the MECH epidemic-,"

"Something I could not do after our mission to destroy Airachnid." Dreadwing confirmed. Breakdown frowned, his phantasmal servo patting the Drake's back.

"_Hey, I don't blame you! Neither does Knock Out, it was my own fault. My temper got the better of me! It-"_

"It was Airachnid's fault, not yours."

"_Yeah, what he said!"_

"You shouldn't beat yourself up about that," Knock Out looked down at the floor solemnly, then quickly back up at Dreadwing. "Besides, it's over now. Airachnid's dead and she's not coming back-,"

"_Damn straight."_

"So... just let it go, alright, Dreadwing?" The Seeker looked down at the younger mech; for one so small, he was very wise. He'd allowed his pain to be put to rest, and his previous manner of floating around all depressed and whatnot had faded some time ago. He and his partner had gotten revenge, and that made him feel better. Like he didn't even realise Breakdown wouldn't be at rest while he was still alive and vulnerable. No, he probably didn't realise, and it was best left that way.

"As you wish, little medic." Stepping a little back into his room, Dreadwing then bowed on one knee, taking one of Knock Out's slim servos and kissing it. As expected, Breakdown shouted in disapproval, needing Skyquake to hold him back before he gave them away. Knock Out just smiled and chuckled a little.

"Again, I'm sorry for calling Lord Megatron on you... and for your loss." He finished his apology with a touching tone, because he understood. Dreadwing also got the feeling he was offering consolation, if he ever needed it. He nodded once.

"I greatly appreciate your solace, my dear." He said, standing up again and ignoring the amusing scene of Skyquake holding back Breakdown with his arms looped under the Stunticon's shoulders, screaming 'Calm down! Calm down!'. "We shall be there for each other, how does that sound?"

Knock Out paused for a moment, then smiled in a way that could easily be mistaken for the smile of an innocent child. Serene and sweet, it made both ghosts go completely silent. "Thank you, I'd like that."

Now in regards to battle, Skyquake stuck with Dreadwing on the field as much as Breakdown stuck with Knock Out. The Autobots had learned by now to leave the medic be as much as possible, so now they focused most of their attacks on the Eradicons or, subsequently, Starscream. Dreadwing found it amusing, but tried to concentrate on his own battle. Megatron was currently engaged with the Prime, as usual, while Knock Out and Starscream were half fighting, half running away from the two-wheeler and the rookie. Leaving Dreadwing to fight the Wrecker and the bug all on his own.

Fun.

"_The big guy is pretty fast, considering his size!"_ Skyquake commented. He may have stuck close to Dreadwing in the heat of battle, but he wasn't nearly as helpful as Breakdown. This may have had something to do with the fact that he knew his brother could take care of himself, or could've been that he was just too lazy to help. Either way, Dreadwing didn't appreciate the running commentary.

As the Wrecker lost his balance, the Seeker booted him across the field, narrowly missing the humming Omega Lock. Dreadwing then lunged forward, knocking the bug to the ground and pinning his arms above his head with one hand. Skyquake crouched beside them, whistling.

"_Primus, just think; if I'd gone onto the Well of Allsparks, I would've missed a tasty scene like this!" _He chuckled, ever the pervert. Dreadwing growled in irritation, though Bumblebee perceived it as anger. Then the blue Drake raised his sword, aligning it with the yellow mech's spark chamber. _"Aw, do you have to kill him? You couldn't just conveniently lose your grip and let the cutie get away?"_

"Shut up!" He snapped aloud.

"I didn't say anything!" Bumblebee cried, kicking weakly at his chest.

"Not you!" He raised his sword, making the scout cringe.

He tensed to thrust the blade into his spark.

"Look, I'm sorry about your brother!" Dreadwing froze, Skyquake tilted his head. Bumblebee gave a shaky exhale, then twisted his head sideways, so not to look the Seeker in the optic. "I'm sorry... I never meant to... to kill him. I've never taken a life before, even an Eradicon's. I'm used to just wounding them, but...," Dreadwing's arm slowly lowered, staring at Bumblebee in a stupor. "Really... I never meant for... for _that_ to happen... I only meant to ground him, honest!"

"You're telling me what you did was an _accident?_" Dreadwing snarled. Skyquake coughed, getting his brother's attention.

"_I can believe that... the kid's got talent and guts, but he's not cold sparked enough to want to **kill.**"_ He shrugged. _"At least, that's what I got from our battle...!"_

Dreadwing stared down at Bumblebee, noticing how the scout had stopped struggling and simply went limp where he lay.

"I understand... I know you want to kill me," He said, that peculiar vocaliser of his rattling shakily. "I... I'll let you." Bumblebee's head slightly fell, having been craning his neck to keep his head upright. "I deserve nothing more... and I know Smokescreen will take care of Raf for me, so... you can kill me... and I won't struggle." Dreadwing looked down at him, reality completely lost to him, despite the loud explosions of battle echoing around him. Bumblebee wouldn't look at him, unwittingly staring at Skyquake. "I never wanted to kill anyone." He whimpered.

Skyquake only smiled as his brother stood up, scooped his servos under the bug's arm pits and lifted him onto his pedes. He then turned the yellow mech around, giving him a light nudge in his team's direction.

"Off you go, little one." He coaxed. Bumblebee clutched his servos against his chest, peering over his shoulder in confusion.

"Y-you're... you're not going to kill me?" He beeped, round optics shaping to frightened crescents and oily tears pooling over the bottom shutters. It was an adorable sight, and Dreadwing had to refrain from yelling at Skyquake as ghostly mech fluid began dripping from his nasal ridge.

"No," He replied frankly, then turned away. "I couldn't possibly kill a child. It would give me nightmares." And with that, he walked away, Skyquake trilling happily as he followed.

* * *

**I will never believe Bumblebee _wanted_ to kill Skyquake. Ever. It's just not in his character! **

**Anyhow, don't know if I'll do more. I might, I might now. We'll see**

**_Hail to the princess, baby!_  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**First update of the new year! Have a good one guys, and brace yourselves; this one's a little trippy.**

* * *

As beads of condensation trailed down his bright yellow armour, Bumblebee quickly became aware of his inability to move freely. He wriggled where he lay, wrists and ankles bound by some unseen force painfully tight.

Twisting his head this way and that, he noticed how he was unable to actually focus. The world around him seemed to be constantly shifting and hiding in plain sight, in a swirling mess of purples, pinks and blues. His servos clenched on thin air, trying to gain purchase on nothing, distressing the confused scout more. He swallowed and cried out, though he was unsure who he was calling for – Rafael, Optimus, Ratchet, Bulkhead, Arcee – until he gradually realised he'd been here before. That thought in mind, he searched his memory banks, but found nothing but that uncomfortable feeling of deja vu.

He gripped at the mist – when had it started to form? – a thin, unholy violet cloud smothering his visual sensors, as if trying to reach for someone's hand. Who was he looking for? He thrashed and wrenched at his invisible bonds, screaming and blubbering like a child, scared by the monster he dreamed up beneath his bed. No, that wasn't quite right. He was silent and quivering; a child checking under the bed to make sure the creature lying there was a worse monster than he was. So many variables, possibilities, scenarios all happening at once impossibly fast, like a tornado in his brain, making him dizzy.

Bumblebee whimpered pathetically, letting his helm sag backwards against nothing. He was exhausted and he hadn't even moved in twenty of the scenes going passed his optics. Perhaps if he relaxed, tried to think calming thoughts, it would all get better.

He thought. He remembered play video games with Raf, wrestling with Bulkhead, Arcee gently rubbing his back to comfort him, Ratchet petting his helm as he repaired his damaged form, Smokescreen bumping fists after a quick race through the desert, Optimus' strong arms carrying him carefully to med-bay.

His spark settled, and the adrenaline lines eased. He sighed in relief, as his world began to slide into logic once again.

But, he noted, the mist never raised.

Large, cold, rough hands glided up his abdomen, then evaporated before he could see. But he felt; he felt them. He sensed the looming, heavy presence. Hulking but elegant; not Bulkhead. Those hands tickled their way up his spine, fingers sharp and deadly; not Optimus. Through the mist, he pieced together the form of back-mounted wings, pert and proud; not Megatron.

A pair of reds pierced through the mist; reds, so red. Glaring eyes with the intention of murder, or something that bloodthirsty. Those honey-poison hands explored his frame again, triggering embers to burn under his protoform. Bumblebee cried out again, and to his horror, arched against the looming form above him. His unseen shackles clanked – how was that possible? – and pulled unbearably hard on his limbs.

"_It hurts!_," He screamed, hot, liquid fire dribbling down his arms and pedes. Those fingers – those sugar-acid fingers – encased his face, framing his agonised expression in a shameful portrait. They caressed his cheeks, wiping away tears until the form leaned closer, those hands reaching for his ties.

"_I'll release you_," He said, whispering in the scout's ear. "_I'll release you and we can run. Run far, far away. Doesn't that sound nice?_," Bumblebee's optics blanched, shaking and reeling, trying to get away.

"_No! No, don't take me away! I want to stay, just a little bit longer!_," He howled, begging his tormentor to leave him be. The figure stopped, hovering above him, optics swallowing the yellow scout's consciousness.

"_You can't deny yourself forever, bug. You insist upon staying, because they need you, but what have they given you? It is not a sin, an atrocity, to be selfish. Just once. You are anything but greedy, little Bumblebee. They are gluttonous, don't you think?_," He asked, trailing a digit around in circles, dancing over windscreen glass.

"_They need me! Raf needs me! If I went away, if I lost my bonds..._," They both turned to his wrists; locked impossibly tight, with the weight of thousands upon thousands of responsibilities dangling at the ends. They hurt so very much, but he was reluctant to relieve himself. He choked back a sob, turning his optics away from his oppressor. "_Why did you come back? You left for so long, I thought you were gone for good. Why come back now?_,"

"_Because you need me_,"

"_They need me more._"

The form leaned back, sitting up straight, tilting his head in bemused curiosity. How the bug could torture himself so, he didn't know. So many aches and pains, pins and needles, all itching at his spark and psyche. It would drive him mad, one day – one day _soon_ – and Prime was unaware, unwitting. No, Optimus was no fool, but Bumblebee was no stranger to fooling.

He leaned down again, ghosting his lips over the scout's. Bumblebee whimpered at the cold metal, opening his mouth slightly in a desperate attempt to engulf a kiss – where was his mask? – in a brief lapse of willpower. "_No, stop! Please! Don't try to tempt me, I won't! I can't! Why won't you leave me alone?!_," He cried. The figure stilled, hands halting in their traversing of his body. Bumblebee froze, realising that he'd upset his enticing tempter.

Shot down and hurt, the figure lowered his helm to the scout's chest, listening to his aching spark. "_Such a delicate thing you are_," He mumbled against the metal and glass, pressing a wind-like kiss to the surfaces. "_So bent and twisted that you're ready to snap, and you won't accept help when freedom is offered. What a selflessly selfish child you are._" Moving back up, lips centimetres and galaxies away from the scout's, he began to vanish. "_Fine. Have it your way. But don't worry; even if you won't accept my assistance now, I'll be sure to catch you when your walls collapse._" Chilling warmth swamped his plating as his friend drifted away, making Bumblebee's intakes catch in his throat. "_Until then..._," He wrenched forward again, thrashing and clawing for him as he faded out of existence.

"_Skyquake!_,"

He sat bolt upright, reaching for a dark corner of the room. He looked around, vents ragged and ruffled. No one had woken up at his plea, thankfully; Bulkhead still snored with Miko comfortably curled on his chest under a mountain of blankets and Wheeljack against his shoulder, Jack still leaned against Arcee in his sleeping bag, Smokescreen was still splayed across the floor beside the scout in an unintentionally provocative position. And Raf was still curled against his yellow hip, cuddling a pillow to his chest. Bumblebee's pants eventually settled, comforted by his charge's soft breathing. He wondered what the odds were of them holding a sleepover at the base when Skyquake chose to torment him again.

Filing that query away for now, Bumblebee lay back down, curling a servo around Raf protectively, and resting his helm on Smokescreen's gut, slowly powering down his optics once again for the night.

* * *

_**Hail to the princess, baby!**_


End file.
